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Caravels of Thought
Into a frail boyhood,
The moment seizes us
More than we grasp
Its shady edges.
Little by little,
We undress the bruised knees
And the warm wounds
To the grown-up day
That winks at the kites.
Take one handful of bitterness
And some silver frowns
Throw them into the face
Of the undimmed wheel
And the splashes of summer laughter.
Copyright ©
Witty Fay
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